Far Away
by paperbackfaerie
Summary: Libby had a gift. One that would help the Winchester brothers greatly in their search for the escaped demons. It becomes clear that all the players however, are pawns in a much larger game.
1. What's Your Name?

**AN: Of course, I own nothing; I'm a mere plebe who worships the genius of others. In this case, Eric Kripke. Oh, and my conspiracy theories are mine alone so forgive me if they don't come to pass and worship me if they do. Also, any discussions on various deities are purely fictional and not a reflection of my beliefs in any way. They are simply further exploration into themes that already exist within the Supernatural universe.**

"**Far Away"**

**Chapter One: What's Your Name?**

**Stepping off the bus in Lincoln I was overwhelmed by a feeling of coming full circle. The last time I'd been this far west had been the night my parents had been killed. And here I was again, on my first case since then, looking for the two men who might make some sense of all of it and dreading it like Anne Boleyn dreaded her own beheading.**

**I pulled my new cell phone out of my bag. Father Marcus had given it to me before I left that morning along with a bag full of musty demonology books, a new laptop and $500 cash. It became painfully clear to me as he drove me to the bus depot that he'd been planning my "escape" for a long time. And I was pretty sure I knew why. I also knew I had to make the call but the idea scared me more than I wanted to admit. I wasn't sure how Father M had gotten the number but the one thing I'd learned in the twelve years I've lived at Girls and Boys town was to never underestimate a determined exorcist. I let out a deep breath and put the phone away. I would make the call later when I was feeling braver.**

**I walked around a hulking Husker who was standing indecisively in the middle of the sidewalk. No wonder they're having such an abysmal season. If Brutus can't find his way to his dorm he probably can't find the end zone either. God, I hate football. I swear the Huskers are the only thing you hear about from October through January if you live in Nebraska. **

**What I really needed to do was look through Dad's journal before I talked to ANYONE. The idea of the gates of Hell being opened didn't sit well with me. I remembered a lot more from my days on the road with my parents than Father Marco or anyone thought I did. But, for as much as I remembered, there was even more that I forgotten and I was going to have to review. It had been fourteen years since the last time I'd been on a hunt and there's only so much a twelve-year-old remembers. **

**After an afternoon of wandering, which consisted mainly of remembering the times that I'd been to Lincoln with her parents, my stomach asserted it's authority and I decided that it would be wise to listen to it before it did something enormously embarrassing, like growl loud enough to shake the Husker from earlier from his stupor. Luck would have it that I was maybe half a block from Runza and my favorite French fries.**

**I settled at a table with a chicken sandwich, a pop and fries. Runza has the world's best French Fries. The rest of their menu might be lacking and the smell of the Runzas themselves might be nauseating but the fries were worth it. I took out Dad's journal and my laptop and started studying his notes, adding what I could to the database I was creating, hoping to get myself back into the hunter groove, if there is such a thing.**

"**Sammy, we can't leave Lincoln without stopping at the first Runza," a voice from the front of the restaurant said.**

"**Dude, you can't remember which state was colonized first but you know where the first Runza is. That borders on disturbing," I glanced up and had to smile at the two men bickering.**

"**Shut it and find someplace to sit," the shorter one ordered.**

**The other one shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes and muttered, "Yes, sir," the sarcasm in his tone was as thick as mud.**

**I went back to studying Dad's journal. There had to be something in here that I could bring to the Winchester brothers. The last thing I wanted to do was go to them empty handed with everything they've been through the last couple of years. **

**I remembered John from a couple of jobs he'd worked with Dad, he was a good man and he loved his boys. I smiled thinking about the last time I'd seen him. It must have been about six months before Mom and Dad had been killed and he was working with Dad on a particularly nasty poltergeist case. He'd stopped at the motel before he headed back to Sam and Dean and talked to Mom and Dad for a couple of hours. Sometimes about hunting but mostly about being parents in a world that seemed to be overrun with evil. Not just supernatural evil but garden variety human cruelty as well. He'd smiled at me when he noticed me in the corner with my books and told me that I reminded him of his younger son, Sam. He'd then joked to Dad that he'd bet dollars to doughnuts that one day in the future we'd all be together celebrating the marriage of me and one of his boys. I'd blushed bright red because boys scared me. I could handle a shotgun like a pro and I was a dead aim with throwing knives but I couldn't speak to the opposite sex. Still can't for that matter. I guess some things never change.**

"**Okay, Dean, those things are noxious," the taller of the two men from earlier said. They had settled at a table not far from me and I could hear him commenting on the other man's food.**

"**This coming from you?" the other answered around a mouth full of food.**

"**Seriously they smell dead."**

"**Probably because they are dead. Hamburger usually is."**

"**Those things were rank when we were growing up, they aren't any better now."**

'**You're such a frickin' prima Donna."**

**I continued pretending to study though I was listening carefully to their conversation. Not because they were saying anything important but because their back and forth insults sounded so comfortable.**

**After a few minutes of somewhat good-natured ribbing they fell into companionable silence and I went back to reading Dad's journal. There just had to be something useful in here.**

**Suddenly a long shadow fell over me. It was the taller stranger, who gestured for his companion to come to the table, "Dean take a look at this."**

**Dean approached us with a French fry hanging out of his mouth, "What is it Sammy?"**

**Dean. Sammy. Oh. Shit.**

"**I think that we just found one of our own."**

"**A Winchester?" he asked.**

"**No, a hunter. Look at her journal, it's like Dad's."**

"**Who are you?" Dean asked.**

"**Libby, Libby Carmichael."**

"**You're Granddad was Eli Carmichael?" Dean asked.**

**I nodded.**

"**It about killed Dad when Meg killed him."**

"**Meg?" I asked.**

"**The demon who killed your grandfather possessed a girl named Meg," Sam explained.**

"**Oh. No one told me much when it happened," I whispered. No one told me much about my grandfather's death because he was one of the primary reasons I was at Girls and Boys Town in the first place.**

"**I know that feeling," Sam said sincerely.**

"**Dude, how'd you know that she had a Hunter's journal? You getting' your psychic boy Mojo back?"**

"**Dean, Mojo is bad voodoo, juju is good voodoo. But anyway, no I thought I saw it when you were eating your third sandwich. So I came over here to check on it."**

**Sam looked at me again, "What are you doing here?"**

"**Runza here or Lincoln here?" I asked.**

"**Lincoln here."**

"**Looking for you guys actually."**

"**Why are you looking for us?" Sam asked.**

"**Partly because Father Marco told me to but mostly because I can sense demons and I thought I could help, maybe."**

"**How long since you've been on a hunt?" Dean's green-hazel eyes were slightly narrowed, the food obsessed goofball completely gone.**

"**Fourteen years, I was twelve when my parents were killed on the job."**

"**Where have you been since?" Sam asked before Dean could say anything.**

"**Because most people thought Granddad was crazy I was in foster care for a little while but I sent one of my foster brothers to the hospital when he tried to get into my pants and was deemed a troubled case and sent to Girls and Boys Town. I've been there since."**

"**Doing what?" both brothers asked in unison.**

"**Ostensibly I've been working as an assistant to Father Marco; in reality I was learning the tricks of the Exorcists trade."**

"**Then why hasn't the Vatican taken you?" Sam asked.  
**

"**Because Father Marco put me on a bus to find a couple of fugitives the day the letter came from the Pope, which happened to be a little over a week after the gates of hell opened up. Coincidence, I think not."**

"**She's right, Dean. This Father probably thinks that we can protect her as much as we will be able to use her skills."**

"**Why?" Dean flipped absently through my dad's journal.**

"**Because, seers are kept in isolation. Treated like an object, a weapon, not a person," Sam answered, "You remember Dad complaining about it to Pastor Jim, don't you?"**

"**No, I was more interested in Pastor Jim's knife collection. He had some wicked blades."**

"**There are maybe a handful of Seers born each century and, when the Church can get them, they keep them in complete isolation from the world at the Vatican," Sam continued explaining to his brother, "They're given enough food to survive but little beyond that. When the Exorcists need them they will take them wherever they need to go long enough to do their job but no longer."**

"**Damn, yeah kid, stay with us."**

"**This kid is twenty-six thank you," I muttered.**

"**Same age as Sam."**

"**I know, your dad told me."**

"**You knew our Dad?" Sam's voice held a hint of envy.**

"**I met him a couple of times when he was helping my parents with jobs. The last time was about six months before my parents died."**

"**So you went with your parents every time?" Sam asked.**

"**Yeah, it was either that or leave me with Granddad and even by Hunter standards he was nuts. Swore the squirrels were vampires out to get him. Which, at eight I thought was funny. It wasn't so funny when it became the reason to send me to foster care after my parents died."**

"**Wasn't that dangerous?" Sam asked.**

"**I don't know, Dean, why don't you tell me? Is it dangerous to be a kid in a scary adult world where you really aren't sure what's happening but you know that most kids' daddies aren't teaching them how to use a shotgun as soon as they're taller than the gun?"**

"**Yeah," Dean's voice was quiet and even I knew that was odd.**

"**Was that really what it was like, Dean?" Sam asked his brother.**

"**Yeah, that's really what it was like. I tried to keep you innocent as long as I could Sammy but I haven't been innocent since I was four."**

"**Dean…I…"**

**Dean rolled his eyes, "No, no hugging it out or any of that shit. It's in the past, keep it there."**

**I almost laughed at the two of them. It was so obvious that they knew each other incredibly well even if they weren't the Bobsey Twins in temperament. But it was funny, they might have seemed to be polar opposites on the surface but I think they were made from the same bedrock. The same bedrock that made John Winchester one of the best, and least insane, Hunters out there. Not to say that John was a pillar of mental heath, because he wasn't. But it seems to me that one must be at least slightly bent to chase after monsters for a living.**

"**Anyway," I interrupted before things turned into some kind of fistfight (which I assumed happened fairly often), "If you're worried about whether or not I can do it, trust me, I can."**

**Dean looked me up and down, "Can you handle a shotgun?"**

"**I already told you I could. I'm proficient with both shotguns and handguns as well as throwing knives though I admit that my lack of height makes me kinda suck at hand to hand. I speak Latin, Greek, Hebrew and some Aramaic. I'm trained by an Exorcist and a hunter. My mother was a medieval scholar. Do you want to check my teeth and look at my pedigree?"**

"**That isn't necessary," Dean answered a little taken aback.**

"**You really speak Aramaic?" Sam asked.**

"**Some, but not much," I told him honestly.**

"**That's more than most of the rest of the world," I couldn't help but notice when Sam smiled at me that he had dimples. This was bad, really bad; boys with dimples make it difficult for me to speak. But Sam didn't…weird.**

"**Look, we should probably go back to the motel and finish this," Sam said.**

**Dean nodded in agreement so I started packing my things up.**

"**Here, let me help," Sam offered as he slid my laptop into my messenger bag.**

"**Thanks."**

"**Whoa, where did you get this text?" he pulled out one of the books Father Marco had added to my bag this morning.**

"**From Father Marco, the priest who's worked with me for thirteen years."**

"**I think this is the only copy that exists," he turned to his brother, "This is one of the lost texts of demonology that was thought to be destroyed during the Inquisition."**

"**How the hell did you or your Priest or whatever end up with it then?" Dean turned to face me.**

"**Look, a couple of years ago we had to go to Rome because they wanted to test me. Shortly thereafter a bunch of books were discovered to be missing by the archivists at the Vatican. Take what you want from that."**

"**The good Padre pulled a little breaking and entering."**

**I chucked, "More like grand larceny but yeah basically."**

**Dean smiled at me and, for a moment, I felt like a giddy teenager. That smile should have a warning label, "We should really get going," he said as he picked up one of my two backpacks.**

**Sam still had my messenger bag so I took the other backpack and followed them to the street. **

"**This is niiiiiice," I said as I dropped my backpack by the rear tire of their car, "We drove around in an old station wagon with fake wood paneling when I was growing up."**

**Dean visibly winced, "Ouch. Well, climb in."**


	2. The TwentySixYearOld Virgin

**Chapter Two: Twenty-Six-Year-Old Virgin**

"**I guess we should feel lucky that they had a room for you," Sam said from the doorway.**

"**Is it just me or is there a faint tracing of one of those dead body chalk outlines on the floor?" I asked.**

"**I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth."**

"**Or a gift room," I muttered.**

"**Where do you want me to put your stuff?" Dean asked from behind Sam though neither of them actually entered the room.**

"**The desk looks like the least vermin infested place. Is your room this incredibly yummy?"**

"**It's good to know that sarcasm is your friend," Dean commented before dumping both of my backpacks on the desk.**

"**Forgive me for not being thrilled by the roach motel where apparently roaches aren't the only things who check in but don't check out."**

**I heard Sam snort but Dean just gave me a **_**look**_**. I guess he's the only one allowed to quip. Damn.**

"**Why don't you join us in our room for a while, Lib," Sam said.**

"**I like that plan," I said and followed them across the hall to their room. Which honestly wasn't much better than mine.**

'**How much do you really remember about hunting?" Dean asked as I settled on one of the beds.**

**I shrugged, "I remember most of the self defense and weaponry stuff dad taught me and the reference stuff from Mom but I don't remember a lot of detail on just what was fought because I was usually holed up in the motel waiting for them to come back. Dad was just starting to let me take part when they were killed."**

**Dean sat next to me, "Were you there?"**

"**When they were killed? Yeah."**

"**What happened?" Sam asked.**

"**Nasty spirit didn't like the idea of being sent on, went after us. Shattered a mirror which cut Dad's throat and stabbed Mom in the heart," I held out my hand, "and it slit my wrist up pretty good."**

"**Shit, did they blame you?" he reached out and traced the jagged scars on my wrist.**

"**The Police? No, I was surprised but they believed it looked like some kind of gas explosion."**

"**Gas explosion?"**

"**Yeah. Easy excuse in an old farmhouse that uses propane."**

**Dean's green-hazel eyes widened in appreciation, "And you came up with this at twelve?"**

**I shrugged, "I was bleeding profusely and my parents were dead, desperate times…desperate measures and all that."**

"**Still…impressive."**

"**I guess," I shrugged.**

**There was an uncomfortable silence after that. Sam started putting their things away and Dean shifted in his seat.**

"**So…I…what are you going to do with me?" I finally asked.**

**Dean turned to me, "Your Father Marco sent you to us. He had to have had a reason. I won't argue with that. But, if you end up being a pain in the ass we'll leave you with Bobby where you'll be safe."**

"**Bobby Singer?" I asked.**

"**Yeah."**

"**He and Granddad had a…disagreement twenty years ago; I don't think he'd want me around."**

**Sam chuckled, "We thought the same thing the first time we had to go to him. He isn't really one for the whole sins of the father thing."**

"**That's refreshing."**

"**Had a little too much of that, Libby?" Dean asked.**

"**I grew up in one of the world's most famous Catholic communities, what do you think?"**

"**Guilt was a way of life."**

"**Pretty much."**

"**I can't tell you that guilt isn't a part of our lives, Lib, because it is. But it's all internal. Sammy and I have both done things we aren't proud of, we'll never judge you for things you have to do in this fight."**

**I glanced up at Dean and had one of those rare girlie moments when I forgot what he was talking about and seemed to focus all my attention on the fact that he had the longest eyelashes I've ever seen. Thankfully the moment was broken by a snort coming from Sam's direction.**

"**Dude, you been watching those late night infomercials again? 'Cause you're seriously starting to sound like the demon hunting version of Tony Robbins."**

"**Fuck you, Sam."**

"**No thanks, incest isn't my thing."**

"**And on that note, I should probably head back to my room. I'll see you guys in the morning."**

"**Night Libby," Sam said.**

**Dean shot Sam another dirty look before absently telling me goodnight.**

**A minute later I closed the door to my room behind me and leaned against it. What the hell was I thinking noticing Dean Winchester like that? He was obviously more experienced than I was. But then, I think Sister Mary Cecelia was more experienced than I was. For some reason, guys have always avoided me when it came to the whole wanting my body thing. Which, quite honestly, seriously sucks. **

**I allowed myself another minute thinking about long lashed green-hazel eyes and a full mouth quirked into a cocky grin before getting back to work.**

**I grabbed my messenger bag and rooted through it until a fished out my new phone. I needed to talk to my best friend which, all things considered, was a really, really bad idea. Without allowing myself to think about it too much I dialed the familiar number.**

"**FBI, this is Caridad Fitzhugh speaking. Could I interest you in some alphabet soup today?"**

"**What?!? Is that how you're supposed to answer the phone? Wait, I thought I called you at home," the happiness I felt from hearing my best friend's voice was temporarily overshadowed by concern for her choice of greeting.**

**Cari laughed, "You did, Lib. But the phone has caller ID so when the name Elizabeth Carmichael came up I knew I could fun you a little."**

"**You're insane."**

"**I'll have you know that I'm perfectly sane. They had me tested thoroughly before they gave me the key card and the retina scan."**

"**Sure, if that helps you sleep at night."**

**Cari chuckled, "So what's up? I called FM and he said you were gone as in no longer there."**

"**I got called up so I headed out. I'm with a couple of friends of my parents' right now."**

"**Friends as in old people friends?"**

"**Friends as in the two sons of an old business associate of theirs."**

"**And just how well do you know these two sons of your parents' business associates?"**

"**Well enough to know that one of them has the most freakishly gorgeous eyes I've ever seen."**

"**Aw hell, Lib, please don't."**

"**Don't what?" I asked.**

"**Don't fall from him. I know enough about whatever it was that you were doing with FM to know that you're probably not going to be settling down with 3.2 kids any time soon. Falling for anyone isn't a good idea."**

"**Who said I was falling? I've known him for, like, four hours."**

"**You never notice guys like that Lib."**

"**Okay. But I NEVER do anything about it when I do either."**

"**Which is almost worse somehow."**

"**Cari, please."**

"**So, what's pretty eyed guy's name?"**

**I paused for a moment, "I can't tell you."**

"**That was so the last thing I wanted to hear. You can't tell me why?"**

"**Because," I took a deep breath, "You know the things I helped Father Marco with?"**

"**Yeah, the top secret, you'd tell me but then you'd have to kill me stuff?"**

"**Yeah, that stuff. Well, I'm doing the same thing still. But in the process of doing top secret stuff the boys have gotten in some trouble."**

"**What kind of trouble?"**

"**The kind that makes the FBI print fliers with rotten pictures of you on them."**

"**Any applicable details would be appreciated."**

"**Wrong place, wrong time trying to do the right thing got them placed at the scene of a murder."**

"**Shit."**

"**I know. But Cari, you have to believe me, they are two of the most honorable guys I've met. And their dad was a good man."**

"**And you say the FBI is after them?"**

"**Uh huh."**

"**Who's in charge of the case?"**

"**Agent Henriksen."**

"**Fuck Libby."**

"**What?"**

"**Dean and Sam Winchester. Shit Lib."**

"**How did you know?"**

"**Who do you think his frickin' highness is Libby?"**

**I closed my eyes, "Aw shit."**

"**Didn't I just say that?"**

"**Uh huh."**

"**Okay, now I don't expect details because I don't think I really want to know the truth in the first place. Just tell me this Lib, and I'll see what I can do about Agent Hitler. These friends of yours, they're truly helping people?"**

"**Yes, Cari, they are. We are. Think of them as kind of an unseen police unit. They're protecting people from baddies that no one notices."**

"**Or believes in," Cari muttered. I'd always suspected that she knew more about what Father Marco and I were up to than she let on.**

"**Did something of your brand of badness happen a couple of weeks ago?"**

**Cari's abrupt question took me by surprise, "Uh, yeah. A big something actually."**

**She sighed, "I thought so. The instances of random violence have spiked. And it seems like too often it's seemingly normal people doing these things."**

"**Hey, could you send some of those my way when you find them? You know cases you know the FBI won't touch with a fifty foot pole."**

"**How do you know my phone isn't tapped?"**

"**Because you wouldn't have called your boss Hitler if it were."**

"**Why aren't you in the FBI?"**

"**Because I have no respect for authority, ask Father Davies."**

"**Father Davies is a sadistic bastard."**

"**Anyway, Cari, can you?"**

"**I'll do what I can. I can't tell you much."**

"**I know, just the cities are usually enough."**

"**That I can probably do. I'll text them to you when I find them."**

"**Thanks Cari."**

"**Anything for my best friend. And Libby?"**

"**Yeah?"**

"**Dean does have gorgeous eyes. Hitler got pissed when the girls here wanted to put his mug shot on the wall like a pin up from **_**Teen Beat**_** magazine."**

"**A mug shot is nothing like sitting on the bed of their motel room while he's examining the scars on my wrist."**

"**Why is that making me hot?"**

"**Because I suspect that Dean Winchester is a walking pheromone." **

"**Really?" Cari sounded like she doubted me.**

"**Seriously. I swear that women were walking past just to look at him. It was kinda weird to be honest. Sam's more traditionally good looking. And Sam has dimples."**

"**Not with the dimples again, Libby. Didn't you learn your lesson with Jordan Knauss?"**

"**Please do not mention Jordan ever again, Cari. Jordan was a dark chapter in my life that I chose to pretend never happened."**

"**Nothing ever happened with Jordan," Cari's tone told of a person patiently explaining something to someone unable to really understand reason.**

"**How can you say that? I felt like a stalker."**

"**Just like every other fifteen-year-old girl with a crush. How many times do I have to tell you that you aren't a freak and you aren't a stalker?"**

"**A few hundred thousand more should do it," I turned my back to the door and started pulling clothes out of one of my bags.**

"**Okay, I changed my mind about this Dean thing. I want you to get involved with him. Maybe it will cure you of your guy weirdness."**

"**I'm not getting involved with anyone, Car. I'm starting to think that I'm going to die a virgin."**

"**Oookaay, so maybe I'll just leave," a deep voice said from the doorway.**

"**What?!?" I dropped the phone and could hear a tinny Cari asking me what was going on. I turned back to the door, "What do you want, Dean?" I could feel my face turning a shade approximate to that of a boiled lobster.**

"**I just broke in to see if you wanted anything for dinner…"**

"**And it never occurred to you that you could actually knock?"**

"**Well…um…no."**

"**Okay then. To answer your question, yes food sounds good. Where are you going?"**

"**I'm not, Sammy is. He said something about a diner he saw not far from here."**

"**Okay, have him get me a chicken sandwich and fries."**

**Dean nodded and turned to leave he was in the threshold when he turned back around, "Hey, sorry I overheard."**

"**No you aren't."**

**He grinned, "You're right I'm not. But you don't have to be embarrassed, okay?"**

"**Sure. Fine. Whatever."**

"**Really Scully? There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Most men are assholes, me included. I honestly don't think I would screw me if I were a woman."**

"**That's actually rather disturbing."**

"**What is?"**

"**The fact that you would even consider having sex with yourself. No wait. That's masturbation."**

**Dean's face actually turned pink, "I think I'd better go tell Sam what you want for dinner."**

**I laughed, "Okay. Thanks."**

**It wasn't until the door was closed firmly behind Dean that I realized that I still had Cari on the phone.**

"**Crap, Car, I'm sorry."**

**She was gasping for breath, "Do you honestly think I didn't want to hear that entire exchange? My God, Elizabeth, that had to be one of the BEST conversations between a man and I woman I've ever overheard."**

"**Should I be concerned about your voyeuristic tendencies?"**

"**Not voyuering here, Lib, just doing my job. I've had the unfortunate privilege of being on stakeouts with Hitler because he likes the added security of having someone who reads lips on top of the recording equipment."**

"**You know, it pisses me off when he does things like that. Most of the time he treats you like some kind of errand girl. You have a master's in criminology for God's sake, you're good for more than getting him coffee."**

"**You think I don't know that. Unfortunately, the Bureau is full of people like him and I just have to survive until I get where I want to go."**

"**This makes me so glad that this is a mostly solitary profession."**

**Cari chuckled, "You know, for such a friendly person you really are anti-social."**

"**No, just not very good with people. Before I met you it was just me and my parents. I've been isolated for so long that I have trouble with people."**

"**I know Libby, and I know that Father Davies didn't help any. I never understood why you got in trouble more than the rest of us."**

"**Because he thought that I should blindly conform and I wouldn't. I couldn't. I wish that I could tell you more Cari, I hate that I have this huge chunk of my life that I can't tell my best friend about."**

"**I understand Libby. I get that you're doing something possibly illegal but I know you. I know that you would only do it for a good reason."**

"**Hey Car, do you know what sulfur smells like?"**

"**Hello random, yeah."**

"**Okay, remember how you were going to call about weird stuff?"**

"**Yeah."**

"**Okay, if you smell sulfur you need to call me immediately."**

"**Can you tell me why?"**

"**Because for most people it's the easiest indicator of what it is that I'm…we're looking for. And you know that weird flask I gave you?"**

"**The one with the not-vodka? Yeah."**

"**Keep it with you. If you get someone acting crazed please splash them and if it smokes run like hell then call me."**

"**Okay, you're officially freaking me out."**

"**I'm sorry Cari. I can't tell you any more but I can't leave you completely in the dark. You're the only person I have left and I won't let them have you."**

"**That isn't true."**

**I jumped at the sound of Dean's voice from behind me, "Jesus, Dean, please learn to knock!"**

"**Sorry, old habits. Here's your dinner."**

"**Thanks," I took the bag from him.**

"**And you aren't alone. Hunters are a kinda incredibly dysfunctional family. Bobby is probably the best man I've ever met. Jo and Ellen are scary sometimes but they're the first ones there when you need backup. Okay so Gordon is completely insane but everyone has one of those on their family tree. Then there's me and Sam. We might kill each other but we'll have your back. Sure it's kinda bent, but it's the way things are. It's too easy to wind up dead doing what we do to not."**

"**Yeah, I remember that."**

"**Funny, I'm just figuring it out," he looked down at his shoes, "I'll let you eat in peace and I'll have Sam knock on your door when we're ready to check out in the morning. I'm sure you'll be glad to be finished with the roach motel."**

"**You got that right. Have a good night Dean."**

"**You too Libby."**

**I brought the phone back up to my ear, "You finished?" Cari asked.**

"**Sorry."**

"**Not your fault that sugar lips broke in again."**

"**Still…"**

"**Still nothing Lib. And don't worry about me anymore, okay? Just eat your dinner and get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"**

"**Okay. Night Car."**

**I managed to fall asleep without dreaming about who probably died in this room. Yay me.**


	3. On the Road Again

**It's me, just reminding everyone that I own nothing. It all belongs to Eric Kripke and all that fun stuff.**

**Chapter Three: On the Road Again**

"**So, what you're telling me is that traded his soul for yours and that he only has a year to live?" I took a drink of my café mocha and leaned over to look at the file Sam was trying to translate.**

"**That's the gist of it, yeah," Sam said.**

"**What's this?" I asked gesturing at the screen with my cup.**

"**It's a demon expelling ritual that I'm hoping will help."**

**I leaned over Sam to get a better look at what was on the screen when Sam's phone rang. I continued trying to read the text behind the translation box while Sam talked to someone (I believe I heard the word Bobby). It quickly became clear though that it was impossible to read the page and I went back to my own laptop, which was displaying the much more prosaic main page for myspace. Cari left me half a dozen messages since last night all of them warning me to watch my back. Like that wasn't an option.**

**I nearly jumped out of my seat when Dean knocked on the window next to us.**

**Sam quickly hung up his phone and looked really guilty. And he's supposed to be a master liar. To quote Cari on her I love the 80s days, shah right.**

"**Well, kids, I think I found us a case."**

"**Really, where?" Sam tried to inconspicuously close the lid to his laptop.**

"'**Bout an hour from here. Just on the Iowa side of the river. Not far from where you're from actually, Libby."**

**I raised my eyebrows, "Really."**

"**Yeah, place called Council Bluffs."**

**I laughed, "That is where I'm from. Granddad lived in Honey Creek but our house was in Council Bluffs."**

"**Okay, then have you ever heard of something called the Black Angel?" Dean asked.**

**I nodded, "Of course I have. Everyone has if you've lived there for any length of time. What about it?"**

"**Ellen just called me asking me if I'd heard anything about murders connected to it."**

"**Murders? Damn, Dean, there are never murders in Council Bluffs."**

"**Never?" both brothers turned to me.**

"**I lived there until I was twelve and I was across the river until this morning. In twenty-six years there have been two murders and almost no violent crime."**

"**Well there were two last night. Might have been what tipped Ellen off. The police are saying that it was some kind of Satanic ritual gone awry."**

"**Which is possible. I remember that there was something in the late 80s, early 90s but I can't remember what."**

"**Would your dad have put it in his journal?" Sam asked.**

**I shook my head, "Nah, he was strictly a ghostie guy. I don't think he ever worked anything else."**

**Dean nodded in what I assume was supposed to be a wise manner, "A lot of hunters specialize. Vamps, werewolves etc."**

"**But not you guys?"**

**Both brothers shook their heads but Dean was the one who spoke up, "Nah. Evil's evil doesn't matter what shape it takes."**

"**Wise words Mr. Winchester," I said with a grin.**

"**Sammy's the smart one, Libby, I'm the pretty one."**

**I felt myself blushing inexplicably at his words, "Some might argue both points," I tried to sound casual.**

**My comment won one of Dean's bright smiles. And when Dean smiled it was pretty spectacular. He smirked often but his smile transformed his face from something pretty to something breathtaking. Oh yeah, Dean Winchester was pretty, there was no doubt about that.**

"**Sweetheart, you keep talking like that and I might decide to keep you," Dean's smile turned lazy and I had to look away.**

"**Nope, no keeping of the Libby. Libby belongs to me," I babbled.**

"**Anyway, do we have any information about the murders?"**

**Dean shrugged, "Ellen didn't have much. She just knew we were close and thought we might want to take a look at it."**

"**Okay, the cemetery that the Black Angel is in is old. I'm pretty sure it goes back to the original Mormon settlement, if not farther."**

"**So it could be anything," Sam said.**

**I shrugged, "Could be. But I'm laying money on our friends from down south."**

"**Demons?" Dean asked.**

**I nodded, "From the research I've done it seems that these are a different breed than we're used to seeing. They do their research, they know the area and they use it to their advantage. So, in a town like Council Bluffs, it makes sense to build on ghost stories almost as old as the community itself."**

**Dean nodded, "You have a point."**

"**I'm pointy," I said defensively.**

**Dean snorted, "Sure, sweetheart."**

**I glared at him, "Don't call me that."**

"**Why, you some kind of feminazi?" **

"**No, that's what my dad called me."**

"**Christ, Libby, sorry."**

"**No big, just don't like being called that."**

"**Fine, no sweethearts…cupcake."**

**I snorted at the cupcake but didn't dare tell him not to call me after a children's frosted snack. I knew that if I did it would only encourage him and Dean Winchester needed no encouragement. And, besides, I was thinking his irritating quirks were cute, and I seriously didn't want to go there.**

"**Focus," Sam reminded both Dean and I. When neither of us answered he made a weird huffing noise and muttered something about buying stock in Ritalin. Which made Dean roll his eyes.**

"**What are you drinking?" Dean asked me, mainly to change the subject I assume.**

"**Mocha, want some?" I held my cup out to him.**

"**Hell, no. I love my coffee but I wouldn't be caught dead drinking one of those pansy assed drinks."**

"**I happen to like…" Sam started.**

"**Like I said pansy assed," Dean repeated over Sam.**

**There was no doubt I was in for an interesting ride.**

**A/N: I know this chapter is short but it's been a while since I posted anything and I really didn't want the story to die. And, if I leave it long enough it will. They always do and then I'll hear about it from a friend in a year and I'll wonder why I never finished it. So, even though four pages seriously sucks, I guess that it's still a good thing.**


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